


No Rest for the Weary

by brohne



Category: Thief (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 07:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1932858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brohne/pseuds/brohne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>That didn’t quite go according to plan … but at least I’m alive.</i>
  <br/><a href="http://s369.photobucket.com/user/brohne_photos/media/tumblr_inline_n8im62qQea1qgt22j.jpg.html"></a>
  <img/></p>
            </blockquote>





	No Rest for the Weary

The ground still shook with secondary explosions. Garrett threaded his way through the debris, stopping a few times when his legs felt like they were going to give out. The pain in his hip and shoulder was nearly enough to make him find a spot to sit for a while. He readjusted the mask, coughing as wind blew smoke and ash around him. The smell of gas and blood hung heavy in the air. He had to keep moving. He had to get to the Clock Tower and take care of his hand and whatever other injuries he’d sustained in the fall. So far at least nothing seemed broken. Though walking sent sharp pains through his knees and his hips felt bruised. Taking too deep a breath had him wincing, pain shooting through his chest. He stopped at the gate, the mangled steel and stone were barely discernible as such. His heart sank as he looked at the twisted debris. He didn’t know if he could climb over it. For starters it didn’t look safe. Then there was the fact he only had one hand. The wall itself was out of the question.

He leaned back against a large chunk of rubble and looked around. It was a mistake. There were dead Watch guards all around. Some had been crushed beneath the massive stone blocks. He closed his eyes for a moment as dizziness had his vision swimming. His hand throbbed a sharp ache that radiated up his arm. He shifted, trying to get more comfortable and gasped as agony stabbed through his left shoulder. Hopefully it wasn’t dislocated. He’d have to see to it after he got free of the Keep. There were certain to still be Graven around. After analyzing the ruined gate for a moment he found a spot he thought he could climb though. Pushing himself away from the stone he started forward.

The rubble shifted under him a few times. Once a section slid out from under his foot and he landed hard on his knee. It took everything for him to not cry out. He knelt there for a moment, shuddering. Steeling himself he shoved himself up and over the twisted metal. The descent wasn’t as bad though the dizziness threatened to have him pitching headfirst into the cobblestones when he got free of it.

He could still hear the cries of the Graven mob. He had to find a safe route home. He couldn’t defend himself in this state and he wasn’t even sure he could climb. He might be able to force himself to in a pinch, but he’d rather not risk it if he didn’t have to. First he needed to get to the wall at Dayport. The Graven weren’t as concerned with Stonemarket. If he could make it there he should be safe. Well, safer.

“Heh, guess the safe was the only safe place in the Keep after all.”

He wrapped his right arm around his ribs and started walking. It was going to be a long painful walk at this rate, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d avoid the Baron’s Way and stick to the side streets and alleys. That would be for the best. If he had to he’d find a place to hole up until things quieted down or he stopped hurting so fiercely. Though he was afraid to stop, afraid he’d end up unable to move at all for a few days.

Getting across the river and into Dayport was easier than he thought it would be. The Graven seemed more interested in looting the homes and burning them than in watching the shadows. He kept to the side streets, avoiding Baron’s Avenue, though when he got close to Eastwick’s Mansion he had to skirt around it. It was under attack by a mob of Graven. He made it across Longchamps Avenue and had to stop for a while.

Huddled in a narrow stairwell he clutched his hand to his chest. The fabric he’d wrapped it with was already soaked through. Part of him wondered why the General had opted to wound and try to capture him rather than just killing him outright. It probably was best not to dwell on it. Though Erin’s words still echoed in the back of his head.

Had she really thought of him as an older brother? Like family? That was dangerous. What was he supposed to do though? She was dead but she wouldn’t leave him alone.

_You want to know what happened? Where you’ve been? Come to Moira._

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Why Moira of all places? What answers could that asylum possibly hold for him? Surely that wasn’t where…?

No. The Queen of Beggars had said she’d taken care of him after the accident. But why did that feel like a half truth? She never told him exactly what he needed to know, letting him figure things out on his own. Something just didn’t feel right.

Lurching to his feet, he glanced up and down the street. It was deserted. It was too early in the morning even for the Graven now. As near as he could figure it was almost three in the morning. Fourth watch. He still had to make it to the wall. He was close now though. He could angle toward the Library and from there to the wall and Greystone Plaza.

Maybe Greystone wasn’t a good idea. It had been packed with rioters earlier. Hopefully they were gone by this hour. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to climb above street level. Just getting to his feet was excruciating. Hobbling down the street he tried not to think too hard about everything that was happening. It had only been a fortnight since he’d woken up in that cart. Everything was falling apart. The City. His life.

He shook his head and kept walking. After a little bit he realized he’d been walking without even being aware of his surroundings. He couldn’t be doing that. He stopped and looked around to get his bearings. There was the wall, to his left. He could just see it over the buildings. He eased his way around the single Graven he saw as he approached the Watch gate. It was in shambles. The barriers the Watch had erected were smashed. Several dead guards lay scattered about like so much debris. He cast about for another way through and finally found a grate. Unscrewing it he winced as he grabbed the handle and pulled. This was not going to be pleasant but it was probably better than trying to climb the wall.

By the time he found the other end of the shaft he was sweating, pain radiating through him in nauseating waves. Getting the grate open felt like trying to lift a hundred pound sack of grain. For a moment he wasn’t sure he could move it.

He nearly fell out into the street, the grate banging closed behind him. Thankfully Greystone Plaza was as quiet as a tomb. Which is what it was for Jacob. The man was still strung up on the fountain. Not even his Graven ‘brothers’ had bothered to cut him down. Keeping to the deeper shadows along the base of the buildings Garrett found Baron’s Avenue. It wasn’t exactly a straight shot to Stonemarket but he was too exhausted to wind his way through the alleys. He wasn’t as familiar with this area, at least not from the ground. He looked up at the roofs overhead – just doing so had him stumbling as dizziness hit him. No. No climbing. He couldn’t risk another fall tonight. Baron’s Avenue would have to do. He’d just take it slow and keep to the deepest of the shadows.

The gate wasn’t guarded, the lock smashed. He pushed it open just enough to squeeze through. This area he recognized though it had obviously been a while. It seemed a lot more run down than the last time he’d been here. Someone had left a cart with a crate at the corner. It gave him a good spot to hide behind as he peered down the street. He didn’t like that he was in full light, but it couldn’t be helped for the moment.

Bracing himself against the crate he made his way around the cart. A woman standing across the street glanced over at him but that was it. He tried not to limp too noticeably as he headed for the wall of the building to his right. He could see the alcove he needed. He glanced down the street again as footsteps echoed off the stone. Someone was coming. He pushed away from the wall and shuffled forward.

“You there!”

Garrett jerked his head around to see a man heading down the street toward him. This was exactly what he didn’t need right now. Forcing himself faster across the street he ignored the man.

“Stop!”

Almost there, just across the sidewalk and up the stairs, down the walkway and … crates blocked the way. He flinched as a knife embedded itself in the wood of the crate next to him.

“Stop right there! I can see you!”

Garrett squeezed behind the crate. There was just enough room between them. He pressed his way forward, ignoring the pain as the sharp edges of the wood pressed against bruises. When he came to the beam his first thought was why would someone leave this in the middle of a bunch of crates? Then he wondered how he was going to get around it. There wasn’t enough room to go over and he was afraid trying to go under would lead to lying on the ground and not moving again for a while. Best to move it and keep going.

Except it was heavy. Heavier than he remembered it being. He finally got it maneuvered up enough that he could slip under it. The weight of it pressed him back and for a moment he nearly panicked as it seemed he might get pinned. It fell with a thud against the crate making the whole stack shudder. He didn’t give himself time to pause.

He stumbled out from between the last two crates and stopped at the edge of the ledge. Below was Ector’s shop, the lamp glowing balefully. Now he just had to get down the ladder. Inching over to it he looked down and immediately took a step back as another surge of dizziness assaulted him. He gave himself a few minutes then went over and slowly started down one rung at a time. Pain arched across his shoulders as he lowered himself. His left knee and hip burned and he stumbled as he finally reached the ground, the short drop jarring him. He looked up as the clock began to chime. It was later than he thought—much later.

How long had he been unconscious in the safe after the fall? It bothered him to think he was losing time. He’d lost so much already. Shaking it off he headed toward Clock Tower Plaza. It was well lit, the shadows were not as deep as he remembered. Then again he rarely went home by any way but the roofs. He could see the front of The Crippled Burrick and tried to force himself faster. Sneaking behind a stack of crates he avoided the two Graven meandering along the street. He didn’t look back as he headed under the bridge. He had to duck back into the darkness at its base as two more Graven appeared. They’d taken control faster than he’d anticipated. He wondered if Orion knew what he’d stirred up or if it had been his plan all along.

He slipped in behind them, trying to stay as quiet as possible. The ache and fatigue in his muscles threatened to betray him. He made it around the corner and into the deeper shadow of the alleyway. He looked up at the ladder.

Taking a breath he steeled himself. It took two tries but he finally caught the claw on the last rung and pulled himself up. He stood on the ladder for a moment gasping as his whole body shook. He tightened his grip but his fingers were numb. He had to keep moving or he was going to fall. He couldn’t think about the pain or how exhausted he was, he had to keep moving.

Once at the top of the ladder he pulled himself up onto the ledge bracing himself against the stone wall.

_Follow me Garrett and I’ll tell you a secret._

He shook his head willing away Erin’s voice. He couldn’t think about that right now. He didn’t want to think about where the vision had taken him, the memories it had dredged up once again. He hadn’t thought about the orphanage in years. The things Erin had said … he didn’t want to relive those memories of being truly alone.

_Is that why you let me go Garrett?_

“I didn’t let go.” The cold of the stone against his cheek finally soaked into his awareness and he pulled himself up with shaking arms. He didn’t remember sitting down next to the barrel. He was so close. Just one more ledge to climb and he’d be on top of the bridge that led to the door.

Gritting his teeth he inched his way across the narrow beam, clinging to the wall. The ledge to the top of the bridge had never seemed tall before. He stood on the beam below and rested his right elbow against the stone. He looked up at the Clock Tower. There were still all the stairs and then the climb to get to the window. He couldn’t think about that. He had to concentrate on getting onto the bridge then he’d worry about the rest.

He pulled himself up and staggered to his feet. He got the door open and shut it behind him. After that he started up the stairs. By the time he got to the top his vision was blurring and he wasn’t sure he could make the climb to the window. He looked around. He wasn’t sleeping here. It was dusty and dirty and he could hear rats scuttling around. Besides he still had to see to his hand.

Climbing proved to be more difficult and more painful than he’d anticipated. When he reached the window and pulled himself over the sill he collapsed onto the floor. He lay there for a moment, breathing hard. Some of the nausea lessened and the dizziness faded enough that he was able to get to his feet. He kept a firm grip on the right hand rail as he descended the stairs. He made it to the bed and sat down. His last conscious thought was that he needed to find a bandage.


End file.
